


You promised me you'd be around (I wish you´d have been right)

by Inspirationfeedscreatiivity



Series: Recover and rebuild, here with me [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, I am so sorry, Pain, War, angsty as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:16:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspirationfeedscreatiivity/pseuds/Inspirationfeedscreatiivity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or the day when someone has to say goodbye, for good</p>
            </blockquote>





	You promised me you'd be around (I wish you´d have been right)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by Pink - Who knew

It's ironic. She had never seen herself walking down this path. With the choices she has made during the last three years of her life everyone anticipated her to be the last one doing _this_. It wasn't suppose to be _her_. It's just wrong. She has witnessed a lot of pain and wrongdoing, but this takes the price. She wishes that _they_ would have had more time, just one more week and this would never have had to be her reality. Still, it is and her heart keeps reminding her of that fact as it jumps a beat every time her gaze falls down to lay eye on the never ending rows of gravestones.

It´s fall. _Their_ season. The ground is covered with leaves painted yellow, brown and deep red. While everyone they know hate this time of the year they usually spend most of their time outside, walking by the river, sitting under the big chestnut tree in the park, protesting against the cold by having a picnic in the backyard. They would do anything out of the ordinary for normal people and what you're suppose to do between the months of September and November. 

It´s _their_ time of the year and it has always been. Ever since they were just little kids running around, jumping in the rain puddles, messing up the perfect piles of leaf that some kind human being has raked together. They always got into trouble, ended up being chased by the gardener taking care of the park, got home with all kinds of stains and pickings of fir needles, leaves and practically everything you can find in a forest. Every year a couple of scars were added to the growing collection on each of their arms from rushing through shrubbery. They had a whole ritual, when they got back home from a day full of adventure and messing around they would count the new and red lines on each other´s skin. 

When they got older the counting became stroking to soothe and assuage the scathing feeling. Soon enough they were well beyond being just kids and that´s when the ritual turned into something else. That´s when the months spent running around turned into them running around each other instead of just messing around. 

She still remembers it, the slight tingle in her stomach as they removed their clothes for what must have been a millionth time, but this time their cheeks were flushed by a whole other reason than just from running, their hands as they were shaking a little, their eyes didn't dare to find each other. She still remembers the sensational feeling of _her_ lips against her skin, as they brushed against the red marks stretched over her arms. It was innocent. With time _she_ had kissed every scar of her body, nothing was unseen or untouched, and they abandoned the childish games once and for all. 

It´s fall, _their_ season, and it couldn't be more wrong or right ,for that matter, to be doing this. She just has to. 

 

It was a Thursday like any other day of the week, the month, the year. It was a normal day. They were sitting at the kitchen table, had just finished their breakfast and _she_ went to put the dishes in the dishwasher. In her nervousness and frankly terror, had she blurred it out. It wasn't cohesive, but by the way _she_ had stopped in the middle of putting down one of the plates in the stall _she_ understood enough. _She_ had then turned around, with hands dripping of water from when she washed off the dishes a moment before, with eyes filled with confusion and at the same time a kind of calm. Like _she_ had known that it was going to happen. _She_ knew her better than everyone else, so _she_ had probably noticed the small changes in her behavior or the way she came up with lame excuses to go out. Still, _she_ asked. _She_ had to ask to be sure. So she said it again, slowly, with eyes locked to everything but _her_.

 _She_ came with her to to the sign up. _She_ held her hand before and after she signed her name to the list of volunteers. _She_ kissed her with a proud and sad smile on the cheek, but fell to her lips to save them both from crying when it had sunk in for a moment. _She_ was there for every step of the way, unwilling to let go even though she knew that it hurt more than ever to see her do that. At the time everyone thought that _that_ was the first nail to the proverbial coffin. 

It wasn´t.

 

They spent their last night together in the apartment, huddled up in one of the ends of the couch with more than enough blankets and pillows to go around and an empty bottle of wine standing on the table. The movie they had rented played without either of them taking notice of it, it was just there to eliminate the silence that threatened to break through the facade they had put up during the weeks before. That facade was nothing else than denial and nerve wracking fear. Fear for the unknown. _She_ cried. They both did. It was a quiet cry, with tears dancing off of their chins to meet the grey fabric of the blanket. The facade came tumbling down with those tears, leaving them clutching to each other and the only thing they could do- let go. Much later than they planned to, they found themselves going to bed like any other night, with the exception that there was two bags placed at the end of the bed. Packed and ready to go at 06.00. Not a minute earlier or later. _She_ had glanced over at them, frowned, breathed out the rest of the sadness and then pulled her in for a kiss. 

That kiss said more than any word every could have. 

 

It was a whole other world over there. Landing was a pain, getting out of the airplane was a pain and finally realizing that she was there was a greater pain. It hurt, but she was doing the right thing. The right thing for herself and for her people. That was what kept her alive for the first month when she was carrying around an enormous amount of guilt and homesickness. It kept her grounded and focused on her tasks. The only time it couldn't do that for her was at night, when most of the world went quiet nothing had the power of distracting her anymore. So she made a habit out of leaving her tent and sitting at the fire, looking at the stars, wondering whether or not _she_ was getting any sleep.

 _She_ wasn't either. Two worlds apart and they stilled followed the same clock.

It had been three months when they were first able to call each other. _She_ had cried again- it took five seconds and then she was bawling her eyes out. To be fair, she did too, even though she tried her best to stay strong and neutral seeing _her_ made it more than impossible to not feel something. They started calling each other on a regular basis after that and really, it was her last string to reality, because being there in the middle of a war wasn't even close to being reality. Being with _her_ had always been her reality. Nothing was as true as being with that girl, in _her_ arms or just in _her_ presence. Seeing _her_ on a screen didn't make up for being back home with _her_ , but it was close enough and she took every opportunity to talk _her_ , even if it just meant five minutes before they had to move locations. Which they did a lot the first six months.

She was moved up in the ranks and before she knew it she was the one in command. This wasn't new to her, but it was far from familiar and took a lot of getting used to. The new rank meant that she got stationed permanently at their location far off from the actual fight. Much to _her_ happiness of course. That also took a lot of getting used to, because she was built to fight, to carry a weapon and led her company with them by her side. 

She got her chance to do so without actually choosing it. 

They were attacked in the middle of the night by a missile and there was a huge number of casualties, not to mention that they lost all form of communication for three weeks. Those three weeks were hell for everyone involved. If it had been up to her, which it was, she would have snuck her way to their other camp a couple of miles away as quickly as possible. Her better judgment fought her off and with a number of well trained men she managed to take the rebel camp that fired the missile and had prevented them from reaching their allies. It was a great victory and it earned her a lot of respect from the other commanders. 

_She_ was furious when they were able to get communications back up. She had never heard _her_ curse that much and for that long before that night. At the end of _her_ rant _she_ looked up to find her grinning and _she_ asked with an even more furious tone what was so funny. She had shaken her head and then looked at _her_ with warm eyes that was framed by mud and camouflage paint. She had said that she loved _her_ and if _she_ continued with that ranting she would have to come home earlier and break her promise. _She_ had softened at that, but when _she_ said that _she_ loved her too those words were more of a wish that she would break her promises. She nearly did, but she listened to her head instead of her heart. 

She´ll never forgive herself for that.

 

Coming home was no relief. Far from it. If it had been her choice she would have stayed, thrown herself into the heat of battle and fought until her bones no longer could carry her. Coming home was unavoidable, but that didn't mean that she didn't put up fight. She fought the commission to the very last second, but at the end of it even she knew that she had to come home. Even though there was no home to come home to anymore. That was probably the main reason to why she felt so cramped in her own skin, because she knew that she would never be able to relax again, not completely at least. Because her home had never been four walls and a roof. 

It had been two feet and a heartbeat.

She can still hear the laugh _she_ made when she told _her_ that. The story behind it is simple. They met on the playground, she hiding under the slide from her babysitter as always, that was when she saw two small feet on the sand next to her and the blue boots the girl was wearing. It was _her_. After she had crawled out from her hiding place _they_ met and from that day _they_ were inseparable. She was six and even though she knew practically nothing about the world she was completely certain about one thing- that girl was cute and she wanted to get to know her.

The heartbeat came in to the picture on late night when they were seventeen. 

They had been watching a movie and _she_ was more or less asleep. She laid with her head on _her_ chest when the credits started to roll and the world went quiet. All she could hear was _her_ heartbeat, the slow and comforting sound of _her_ beating heart. The heart that _she_ had promised her. That she knew was hers. That was the first night that she said those three little words that contained more meaning than her entire life could ever do. Even do _she_ was asleep, she still counts that as the first time they said I love you to each other, because nothing speaks clearer than a heartbeat.

Especially _hers_.

 

If there was anything she had learned over the years it was this, a war demands casualties. When she left her loved ones she left them to fight another kind of war than the one she was going to lead. The war that took her love's life carried no gun or forced itself in over another country's borders, but it forced itself into _her_ bones and demolished _her_ strength from within. They had not noticed it, at all. _She_ showed no signs of that weakness, which didn't come as a surprise because _she_ was the strongest person she had ever known, but in this case she wished that _she_ had been in a little bit of pain. If _she_ had been then she would have made _her_ go and check it up and in that case they would have found the cancer.

They did find it, but it was too late.

 _She_ was already cold when the doctors could give them an answer to why this had happened. _She_ was alive and happy one day and the other _she_ didn't pick up when _her_ friends called. _She_ died because of an embolism. She couldn't have done anything even if she had been there, but that doesn't help her guilt. She should have been there for _her_ , not in a battle. When she was taking lives, the only life she cared about was taken from her and she has a permanent mark from it. That was the first thing she did when she got back- she tattooed in three stars on her chest, it symbolizes the Orion's belt which was the only sign _she_ had known.

 

Lexa have had to learn how to say goodbye the hard way and she knows deep within that everyone´s fight will have an end, but the words don't fit her tongue this time and probably never will. She´s not sure she wants them do either. Still, she has to let go in some way even if it means that she'll have to let go off a part of herself with it. Her eyes tear up even though she fights in with every single strength she has left in her. When she has managed to get control over her emotions she leans down and places the bouquet in front of the gravestone. 

She should have been there, but she wasn't and that too will stick with her. 

 

"May we meet again, my love".

Her voice cracks and she swallows hard, pushing back every human reaction that is perfectly normal to feel in this situation, but she refuses to let those take over her. She straightens her back and stands, taking one step closer so that she can place her right hand on the stone. Her whole body aches.

“You okay?”.

Lexa nods with clenched jaws. She breathes out the tension she´s been carrying since they got off the plane. She brushes her thumb against the edge of the stone before she lets go and backs away. The name on the stone will be imprinted on her mind and she can already feel the panic she´ll feel waking up in the middle of the night dreaming of that name. Her legs are unsteady and she can hear the sound of steps behind her. She´s glad she´s not alone and that there´s someone there to help her, even though she'll never ask for it.

“Can we go now?”, she asks and turns to Clarke. The blonde smiles and nods.

“Of course”.

Lexa nods, as if to herself, and turns back to the grave one last time. She sighs and follows as Clarke walks away, but then she stops and feels that ache again. Clarke seems to hear her as she stops and so she does that too. Lexa looks up to meet Clarke´s friendly and familiar face, the one she sees most of these days since they have become allies. She´s still not sure why Clarke´s doing this for her, it didn't include that in the alliance, but for whatever reason Lexa couldn't feel more safe with anyone else than with her. Lexa turns and walks back to the grave with slow and unsteady steps. She almost falls down to her knees when she reaches it and has to support herself against the stone. The name makes her eyes tear up again and she breathes in slowly.

“Your fight is over”, she exhales and with it she says goodbye the only way she knows how to. Her fingers find their way to the engraved letters and they write the name she has used as a prayer for most of her life. _“Costia”._


End file.
